Al Capone, crook supreme, believed in no one and distrusted everyone.  As grandsire of organized crime, Capone laid down with dogs and itched constantly.  So when Count Lustig approached Capone at the height of his power, offering to double a $50,000 investment in 60 days, Capone knew it was a con. 

However.

Intrigued, he decided to take the Count up on his offer, and fronted the charlatan $50,000 cash, with the full expectation that he would end up hunting down and killing the con man when he disappeared with his money.

However.

At the end of the investment, Count Lustig appeared as promised with Capone’s $50,000 in hand, apologizing profusely for his failed venture and thanking Capone for his money and his time.  Capone, flustered with surprise, offered Lustig 10-percent – $5,000 – simply because the man was unexpectedly, unpredictably, inexplicably … honest. 

Capone got scammed out of $5,000, which was Lusting’s intent all along.

The essence of deception is distraction.

A kind gesture, an unexpected gift, a deprecative admission … all of which can lower the defenses of an intended target, making the person more susceptible to deception.  The ancient Chinese aphorism – “give before taking” – perfectly encapsulates this law. 

Outright theft, deception, and dishonesty are rarely effective in the long-term … others are instantly distrustful, on-guard, and wary of persons employing such tactics, and thus much more impervious to and resentful of those utilizing such means.

Selective honesty is an excellent weapon used to disarm, and when employed during an initial encounter serves to create a lasting impression.  However, one must cultivate a reputation for honesty; a single act typically is not enough.  Engaging in several honest dealings over a period of time renders a target susceptible to the larger, more long-range con.

Jay Gould, a Civil War-era railroad robber baron of the Gilded Age, had a reputation for double-dealing, undercutting, and backstabbing, and as a result trusted no one.  After investing heavily in the Erie Railroad, he discovered that the market had been flooded with phony stock certificates in the company, which had the potential to completely devalue his investment and, more importantly, cause him extreme embarrassment.  Help arrived in the form of Lord John Gordon-Gordon, a man reputed to be a Scottish lord, who offered to assist Gould with his Erie problem.  Via the use of a handwriting expert, Gordon-Gordon demonstrated to Gould’s satisfaction that several top executives in the Erie Railroad were behind the phony stocks, and convinced Gould to “pool resources” by financing the stock purchase of a controlling interest in Erie Railroad.  As soon as Gould purchased the stock, Gordon-Gordon immediately sold it, fleecing Gould out of $1M and fleeing to Canada. 

Gould subsequently learned that Gordon-Gordon was no Scottish lord but rather in fact one John Crowingstock, the bastard son of either (1) a clergyman and household servant or (2) a merchant seaman and barmaid.  In any event, Gould – known for his dishonesty – was swindled by the disarming honesty and proffered help of a gifted grifter. 

In ancient China one despot sought to invade a powerful neighboring kingdom, and gave the gift of his daughter in marriage to the kingdom’s ruler.  He then asked his advisors, “Which kingdom should we invade next?”  When one advisor suggested the powerful neighboring kingdom, the despot replied angrily, “That is our sister state.  How dare you,” and had advisor executed.  The kingdom’s ruler, disarmed by the gift of a bride and the despot’s order of execution, took no precaution to defend his kingdom against the despot, who then swept in a few weeks later to invade and conquer. 

Arguably the most famous gift bearing destruction is the Trojan horse, where after a decade of fruitless war with the city of Troy the Greeks built a giant wooden horse in tribute to Athena, ostensibly to apologize for desecrating her temple and ensure a safe voyage back to Greece, and left it outside the gates of Troy.  Jubilant at their victory, the Trojans wheeled the present inside the city gates, and, well, Brad Pitt did a great job as Achilles; although Eric Bana was excellent as Hector, Orlando Bloom’s Paris should have been fed to lions, right alongside blondely, thin-lipped Helen.  Angelina Jolie may have been too old, but still more beautiful. Sorry, Diane.

The moral?  Even the most corrupted can be convinced with an offer of aid, an unexpected gift, and tempered honesty.  In certain instances, kindness instills weakness in others.